


Lurk

by Sicknote



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Barebacking, Cheating, Choking, Jealousy, M/M, Minor Violence, Otabek POV, Recreational Drug Use, Rough/Angry Sex, Slut Shaming, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-22 16:58:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11971692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sicknote/pseuds/Sicknote
Summary: “Hey, since we're asking questions, does your wife know what you get up to every Friday night?”The muscle in Otabek's jaw tightens. “Don't talk about her.” He warns.“Why not?” Yuri gets up close to Otabek and his eyes gleam dangerously, openly goading him. “You're the one that mentions her whenever you're trying to pretend that you don't want to fuck me.”This shitty dive bar had been Otabek's weekly sanctuary from his mundane white picket fence life – that was until Yuri Plisetsky dug deep under his skin and fucked it all up.





	Lurk

**Author's Note:**

> My contribution to the 2017 Shitbang! Late I know, gah! I'll do better next time! This is the first fanfiction I've written and posted in years so it's a mix of nerves and excitement! What better thing to write about for that than some smutty Otayuri, amiright?
> 
> Art for this fic was kindly drawn by [kingjulienisnotalemur](http://kingjulianisnotalemur.tumblr.com/) and they did a great job! It can be seen in the end note.

This bar had been an escape for him once.

He used to love it, back when it reminded him of a time before 9-5 workdays at a desk, dinner with the in-laws on Sundays and paying a mortgage. He'd stumbled across it by accident one night after work and whilst the broken glass, cigarette butts and tacky, flickering neon sign outside would have deterred most, it irrevocably drew Otabek in. 

He loved the dark and dingy interior, the old jukebox in the corner and the limited drink selection. This was not the place for fancy cocktails. It was rough around the edges and put on no airs or graces.

It spoke to a side of him he thought had been lost, the less good part that he'd spent years burying.

He didn't need much from it. He liked to just sit at the bar in the same spot every night and order the same drink; whisky, neat. He didn't talk to anyone apart from the bartender, in fact it was always a better night when he didn't have to. The solitude and the run-down surroundings brought him a comfort he couldn't quite explain. The entire aesthetic and vibe of the bar was the complete opposite of his regular suburban life. He'd nurse his drink and just watch the place come alive around him as the hours ticked by – it was interesting to see the different characters this place drew in and listen to the eclectic music choices mixed with the thrumming murmur of conversation. 

Sometimes fights would break out and he would just sit and watch them unfold over the top of his glass. Suburban-Otabek would try to break it up before things could escalate, but when he was here, there was something viscerally satisfying about watching two people beat the shit out of each other. 

Then at the end of each night, he'd drain his glass of his last drink, pay his tab and get a taxi home.

He was happy like this. It was simple.

That was before he met Yuri. 

~.~

He has no right to be jealous.

He knows that really. He's married, Yuri is single, that's all there is to it. The rational part of his brain is positively _screaming_ at him to just settle down and finish the same measure of whiskey that he has been nursing all night. And does try; he checks through his work emails on his phone, runs through his mental list of DIY jobs Elena has asked him to do over the weekend, makes stilted small talk with Milosh the bartender.

But despite the effort, he hasn't been able to settle the fire ants crawling under his skin that make him bounce his knee restlessly and lead his mind to dark places. He can't help his eyes wandering over to where they stand in a dark corner of the bar.

Are they together? He isn't sure, but the way the taller man leans in so closely to whisper in Yuri's ear, his hands settled on his hips, indicates familiarity at the very least. Especially given the way Yuri responds, smirking so flirtatiously and tugging at his bottom lip with his teeth before pressing against him and whispering back. He wonders what they're saying to each other and the not knowing aggravates him. 

“You know that guy?” Otabek asks Milosh, subtly jerking his head in their direction.

“Hm?” Milosh peers over at them as he pours a beer and nodded. “JJ Leroy. Comes here whenever he's over from Canada.”

“To see Yuri?”

Milosh just shrugs but Otabek doesn't miss the knowing look he shoots him before he turns away to serve another customer.

 _JJ Leroy_. No, Yuri has never mentioned him, he would have remembered. 

How often is he over from Canada? How did they meet? Otabek is sure he hasn't seen him before. He doesn't fit in here, not in the way that Yuri or Otabek or any of the other regulars do. Too polished, too put together. Some rich boy trying to pretend there's some grit under that classically handsome exterior.

He would have noticed him with Yuri, he knows that for certain. But then, he only comes here one night a week now doesn't he? Perhaps this is a more frequent thing than he realises and he just never knew about it. 

But no, he really has no right to be jealous.

~.~

Yuri loved to dance, and Otabek loved to watch him.

It was easy enough to pick him out in the crowd, but most of the time he didn't have to. Yuri always made sure Otabek could see him.

Elena loved dancing too, so much so that she had insisted on weeks of lessons before their wedding in preparation for the first dance, so it would be perfect. And it had been. Perfect and not a step out of place. Their family and friends loved it and it looked beautiful on the wedding video, just like she'd wanted. 

Yuri didn't dance perfectly. He danced with his eyes closed and moved like he was lost in the music, yet was still always so graceful no matter how much he'd seemingly had to drink. 

Watching him dance was how they first met. Sat at his usual spot at the bar one night, he'd been enraptured at first sight. This beautiful creature that he couldn't tear his eyes away from, dancing on his own like he was the only person in the room. Otabek's eyes were not the only ones drawn to him, several others had their gazes pointed his way too and it wasn't hard to see why. He had a pretty face and a lithe body dressed up in a loose tank top that was shredded in the back to show off creamy skin and tight leather pants that hugged his figure. But it wasn't any of the other patrons that Yuri turned his attention to when he eventually stopped dancing and came to the bar for a drink.

Vodka in hand, he'd drawn close to where Otabek sat, eyes roaming over him.

“I saw you watching me.”

Otabek considered trying to deny it but knew it was pointless to lie. He had been watching, unwaveringly so.

“I wasn't the only one.” He replied gruffly, bringing his whiskey to his lips and taking a sip. 

“Only one I'm interested in.”

That stirred something within in that he immediately tried to ignore. He cleared his throat, turned his head to look at him and raised his hand so that his ring was visible.

“I'm married.”

And the blonde just grinned impishly. “Good for you.”

He should have listened to the warning bells in his head then, but he didn't. Despite his usual aversion to interacting with others here, Otabek found himself drawn in by those piercing green eyes like a moth to a flame. They exchanged names and the conversation flowed easily, and that night he went home with _Yuri_ playing on his mind like a song on repeat.

Over time, they fell into a routine of sorts. They would have some drinks together each night and at first Otabek would try to keep the conversation to areas that were safe but after a while he would inevitably fall into rhythm with the smooth flirtation that flowed so effortlessly from Yuri's lips. 

“Watch me dance?” He'd always ask, leaning in close to him and smiling coyly like he didn't know he was making Otabek's skin tingle. He nodded every time because he would have anyway, he always did.

And those times when he pulled Otabek away from the bar to dance _with_ him, it wasn't to do so with perfect steps or choreography like at his wedding. It was with Yuri's back to his chest, hips rolling smoothly and ass grinding back against him, Otabek hands placed on his hips and one of his own reached up around the back of Otabek's neck. 

It was just dancing Otabek would tell himself. Harmless fun, nothing out of line.

Harmless fun, even as he ran his hands past the jut of Yuri's hip bones, down his thighs and back up again to his ribs as they grinded, the material tugging under his heavy handed palms.

 _Just dancing_ , even as his heart rate quickened and his pants grew dangerously tight. 

He always inevitably caught himself and pulled away suddenly, borrowing from a list of excuses that could place distance between them. Yuri always just shrugged and continued to dance alone and Otabek would ignore the knowing smirk on the blonde's face as he walked away.

~.~

He held Yuri's hair back for him as he snorted a line he'd cut on the toilet cistern with an expired credit card. It was soft between his fingers, like spun silk. 

He loved watching the bliss wash over Yuri's face as he pulled his head back up, that moment of ecstasy that made his eyes flutter shut and his mouth fall open softly. He waited for it every time. 

“You want some?” Yuri asked as usual over his shoulder, and, as usual, Otabek declined.

“You're so _boring_.” The blonde whined, turning and pressing up against him with a wicked grin. Otabek just tugged his hair lightly in warning even as the warm coil in his belly tightened at having Yuri against him, his lips so close to his that he could feel his breath. 

“And you're being naughty.” He said, even as he lightly massaged the back of Yuri's head. 

A pretty pout and fluttering of his eyelashes, almost angelic if it weren't for the light dusting of white powder under his nose and the pupils blown wide. “I just want you to play with me.” 

“I'm married, Yuri.” His hands slipped from his hair, came to hover over his hips with his fingers poised in the whisper of a touch. It would've been so easy to slip them under the material of his shirt and caress the warm skin there. Too easy, too tempting.

Yuri rolled his eyes in response. “Christ, I _know_. It's just some coke Beka, I'm not asking to suck you off.” A pause. “Unless you want me to.” 

“ _Yuri._ ” Otabek warned again, serious this time, because he did. 

Yuri lifted his hands in surrender and stepped back but his eyes glinted mischievously, because he knew.

~.~

He watches them disappear together through to the corridor in the back, and manages to last a whole 15 minutes before he can't take it any longer.

His drink is left abandoned and he pushes his way through the crowd of sweaty bodies in the direction he saw them go. Despite the noise of the bar filtering through to the corridor when he reaches it, he manages to hear them before he finds where they sneaked off to. It doesn't take genius to work out what's going on.

Grunts and moans, the very telling repeated smack of skin-on-skin.

Even so, the door to the staffroom is ajar and Otabek reaches out to push it open a little further, ever so slightly. He steps close, peering in through the gap.

“Fuck!”

The staffroom apparently has a couch, one that Yuri is bent over the arm of, ripped skinny jeans at his ankles and JJ Leroy thrusting into him from behind. Otabek freezes at the sight.

“You always take my cock so good baby.”

“Shut up,” Yuri gasps into his forearms, fingernails scraping against the rough fabric of the couch. He cries out loudly as JJ grips his hips harder and twists slightly, thrusting in at a readjusted angle, and Otabek watches as Yuri bites down on his own arm to muffle himself.

“You can pretend all you want, I know you love this,” JJ pants as he maintains his quick pace. He's breathing hard, sweat trickling down his brow. “I know exactly how to make you scream kitten.”

“Fuck y-ah!...ah!”

Otabek tears himself away and leans heavy against the wall next to the door, breathing hard. There's a thundering in his ears, so loud he almost can't hear anything else. Almost. 

“Harder!”

He shoves himself away from the door with an angry growl, storms out of the corridor. He has to distance himself immediately, otherwise he's not sure he'll be able to stop himself from doing something he'll regret. The _thud thud thud_ of his heart is hard against his chest, his veins thrum with tingling energy. 

He stops in his tracks and realises he's rock hard. 

The bathroom of the bar is as well kept as the rest of the place. That's to say, barely at all. Graffiti litters the walls, most of it crude and nonsensical, the lights flicker, and the cracked tile flooring is sticky with various substances. When Otabek shoves his way inside, he stalks straight past the urinals and into one of the few cubicles that actually has a door that isn't broken.

He leans against the locked door heavily, closes his eyes and tries to ignore the tight coil in his belly and the ache of his erection.

The minutes pass and it doesn't leave because all he can hear going round and round in his head are Yuri's breathy moans, his gasps of pleasure, the way his body jerked with every thrust into him.

_“Harder!”_

He's palming himself through his jeans as he pictures it, imagines himself in Leroy's place, Yuri spread out in front of him so deliciously-

“Fuck! No!” He curses at himself, snapping open his eyes and slamming his fist back hard against the door. The whole cubicle rattles.

He can't allow Yuri to have this effect on him. He has to focus on something else, _someone_ else.

His wife, he should focus on her. Picture her in his mind until everything else is forgotten. 

Elena with her honey skin, dark hair and chocolate brown eyes. She's always had such a calming aura surrounding her. She's softly spoken words, patient and kind. She is the antithesis of Yuri.

 _Yuri._

When Yuri is in the room it's impossible to tear his eyes from him, no matter how many times Otabek has told himself to do so. The way he looks, all wild golden hair, slender body and long legs, the way he moves when he dances, or bites his lip and presses himself so close when they talk – all of it demands attention without him having to ask for it. He's brazen and brash, mischievous, passionate and shamelessly flirtatious. Just being near him stirs something within Otabek that he's hopeless to ignore.

He hates it. 

The bar is tainted. Nowadays whenever he thinks of it, all he can picture is Yuri. Whenever he comes here, it's always with the anticipation of seeing the blonde again. He had ensnared him, gotten so deep under his skin that he struggles to think of anything else. His entire week is spent on auto-pilot, every task and interaction feels like he's wading through a dream until Friday night when he can finally come alive.

He hates that it has become this. Hates himself for it, hates Yuri.

This place isn't an escape any more. It hasn't been for a long time.

~.~

There was a period of time, a few months after they'd met, when Otabek stopped coming to the bar. The decision came to him one night as he lay in bed staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep because all he could think about were bewitching green eyes and the grinding of a slim body against his.

He needed to focus on his life, his _real_ life with Elena. The bar was just distracting him from all the good things he already had, right? He didn't need to go. He should have been able to be content.

But inevitably, it was too hard to stay away. The weeks passed and the distance made him grow profoundly irritable. If he thought he was distracted before, it was even worse then. The same constant thoughts circled day and night; _What is he doing? Who is he with?_

So he went back, made an excuse of needing some time to unwind with friends from work. And Elena was eager for him to do it, hopeful that it would lift his mood. Besides, it was only one night a week after all. She didn't need to know that he went alone, that his co-workers were home to their own wives by 7pm on those same nights. 

And when he walked back in, his eyes were drawn to him almost immediately. Yuri was hard not to notice, after all. He made his way straight to him, placed a hand on his shoulder to get his attention. Yuri quickly turned, eyes widening in surprise for a moment, then he jumped at him, flinging his arms tightly around Otabek's neck.

 _“You came back.”_

Of course he did. Staying away was impossible.

~.~

Twenty minutes pass before Otabek urges himself from the bathroom, finally calm enough that he feels able to leave. The night is decidedly over for him and he makes his way through the crowd towards the bar with the intention of getting one final shot of some hard liquor to settle himself before he heads home.

That is his intention, until he sees JJ is there leaning against it.

He's as well put together as he was before his tryst with Yuri in the back and he's talking animatedly to Milosh and some other person he doesn't recognise, obviously in the middle of telling some crude joke if the hand gestures are anything to go by. They cackle with laughter, obviously enjoying it. Yuri isn't with him and not in the close vicinity either.

Just the mere sight of him sets Otabek's teeth on edge and all those feelings he'd spent the time squashing down in the bathroom rise up again like bile. He clenches his hands into fists at the sensation and he can't stand it, he needs to leave before he does something brash.

The cold, damp air rushes to greet him when he pushes his way out the fire exit into the back alley and it's a welcome relief on his fevered skin. He takes a moment, breathing in a deep lungful.

“What's up with you?”

For fuck's sake. Otabek turns his head to see Yuri leaning against the wall, one leg propped up and a lit cigarette in-between his fingers. He swallows down the influx of anger in his throat at the sight of him, tries to steady his breath.

 _Calm down, just relax._

Except the words are out of his mouth before he can stop them. “Are you in a relationship with him?”

Yuri's face is impassive as he draws on the cigarette. “Who?” He asks as he blows out a mouthful of smoke.

“You know who. I saw you two together.”

“Still not following.”

“I'm not playing games with you Yuri,” Otabek growls, taking a couple of steps towards him. “I know you were fucking in the staffroom.”

Yuri is unperturbed. “So you were watching us?”

“No, I-

“Did you jerk off to it like some kind of pervert?”

Otabek recoils as if struck, shocked that he was so obviously transparent, that he'd come so close to doing exactly that. “What? No!”

Yuri just laughs as if it's all a joke and it makes Otabek want to scream. 

“You didn't answer my question.” He snaps, trying to calm himself. He can feel it all bubbling just under the surface, threatening to spill over. 

“Why are so worked up?” 

“Why are you deflecting?”

“Why are you _asking_?” Yuri's eyes narrow at him. “You're not jealous are you?”

Of course he was, there was no other way to describe the red hot claws that scratched at his insides when he recalled the sight of them together.

How else could he explain the searing urge he'd had to smash in Leroy's perfect white teeth when he saw him on the way out here?

But it's not like he can admit that. He won't give Yuri the damn satisfaction.

“No,” Otabek bites back through gritted teeth. “Just wondering if you make a habit of acting like a whore.”

Yuri barks out a humourless laugh. “Ouch,” he says mockingly, tapping a free fist against his own chest in the space above his heart. He takes one last draw of his cigarette, looks at him with hardened eyes, and then drops the remainder, grinding it under his heel as he breathes out a plume of smoke.

“Hey since we're asking questions, does your wife know what you get up to every Friday night?”

The muscle in Otabek's jaw tightens. “Don't talk about her.” He warns.

“Why not?” Yuri gets up close to Otabek and his eyes gleam dangerously, openly goading him. “You're the one that mentions her whenever you're trying to pretend that you don't want to fuck me.”

He yanks open the metal door next to them, moves to storm through it...then “oofs” as he's yanked back by a rough grip on his forearms and shoved up against the brick. The metal door swings shut with a loud bang.

“That's what you think?” Otabek growls at him, boxing him in against the wall. He presses close and can feel the heat from Yuri's body through their layers of clothing.

For a split second Yuri's expression wavers with shock but he swallows hard and meets Otabek's intense gaze with burning and defiant eyes.

“Yeah,” He bites back, baring his teeth. “You do a shit job of trying to hide it.”

Otabek is almost shocked at the audacity of him, that he's conveniently skimming over the fact that _he's_ the one that kept flirting first, pushing the boundaries at every opportunity. He sets his jaw and meets the accusation with denial.

“I'm not hiding anything.”

Yuri scoffs at him. “Right. I bet your perfect little wife doesn't even know I exist.”

Of course she doesn't. 

“I told you not to talk about her!”

“What is it, huh?” Yuri spits. “Has marriage shrivelled up your sex life?”

“You better shut your mouth-”

“I bet you hated it didn't you, seeing him take me like that when you have nothing to go home to. She must be a real boring fuck-”

Otabek grips Yuri by the throat so suddenly it slightly knocks his head back against the wall. The rage courses through his veins, thrumming so hot it feels like it's going to burn him up. The fucking _nerve_ of him!-

There's a flash of fear in Yuri's eyes but it's gone as quickly as it appeared.

“You want to hurt me?” He hisses through gritted teeth. “Go ahead. _Do it_ , you fucking coward.”

He knows Yuri is deliberately trying to antagonise him, pushing every button he can. And it's working.

Otabek's lip pulls into a snarl and and tightens his grip, hard. 

He does want to hurt him. He wants to squeeze until he's desperate for air and his eyes are rolling back enough to show the whites of them. He wants to pull him forward by the throat and slam his head back against the brick and watch the blood trickle down the grooves. 

He wants to shove his cock past those pretty pink lips and choke him with it. He wants to fuck him until he can't walk.

All these months of flirting and teasing, bold touches and heated glances. The tension has steadily built between them like a coil ready to snap.

Otabek clenches his teeth together and Yuri's mouth gapes open soundlessly as he squeezes even harder. Black painted fingernails dig into his chest, hard enough that Otabek can feel them through his shirt, but the blonde isn't trying to push him away. Otabek watches his face intensely, breathing hard from his nose as his gaze flicks between those wet lips and his eyes. They're staring back at him, burning with desire.

He's rock hard again, straining against his jeans, and the ache is almost unbearable. His precum has left the front of his boxers damp and uncomfortable. 

He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't be letting Yuri rile him like this. It's past 3am and he should be home, in bed asleep, next to Elena.

But now Yuri has curled his fingers into the front of his shirt and is pressing his thigh against his erection and Otabek can feel that he's hard too.

_Fuck._

He crashes his lips against Yuri's hungrily, loosens his grip on his throat but keeps his hand there. Yuri gasps for air, his chest heaving against him but he meets the kiss with fervour. It's hot and wet, all tongue and teeth and saliva. Otabek grunts at a sharp pain in his bottom lip and he tastes blood - Yuri bit him.

He growls, quickly threading the hand on Yuri's throat up into knotted blonde hair. He yanks roughly and Yuri gasps as his head snaps back, crying out in pain as Otabek sinks his teeth into his pulse point and starts sucking hard on his heated skin. A string of saliva links his mouth to Yuri's throat as he pulls away slightly to look upon the angry purple and red mark and he immediately latches on again just below it. 

“Ah!” Yuri pants. “Fuck!” 

His hands scramble at Otabek's shoulders as he blazes a trail towards his collarbone and he grabs Yuri's ass with both hands as the blonde arches against him. 

He smells mildly of fruity perfume and cigarette smoke and tastes like salt from sweat. Otabek catches a hint of an aftershave, probably Leroy's, and it feeds the fire in his gut, makes him want to mark Yuri even more, make him _his_.

He grinds their hips together and there's two hands in the longer parts of his hair, gripping tightly and tugging. 

The ringing from his pocket is what breaks his lust haze and is enough to shock him back into reality as he realises it's the ringtone he set for his wife.

He pushes Yuri away from him and scrambles for the phone, his heart pounding in his ears. Sure enough, her name is lighting up the screen when he pulls it from his pocket. 

_Elena_. What the fuck was he doing?

His thumb hovers over the call button but it's suddenly so hard to think because now Yuri is hurriedly pressing himself against him again, peppering wet, open mouth kisses on the underside of his jaw. 

There's hot breath against his ear. “You should answer it,” Yuri breathes, and now there's slim fingers undoing the button and zip of his pants. “Talk to her while I suck you off.”

 _Fucking hell_. Otabek hates himself for the way the suggestion shoots straight to his cock, hates Yuri for making it in the first place. 

“You're sick.” He snaps, but he's shoving the still ringing phone into his back pocket and grabbing the blonde by the upper arms before he can reach into his boxers, backing him back up against the wall.

That smirk that Yuri gives him in return just serves to anger him further. He can see it clear as day - this is all a game to Yuri, has been from the moment he'd first shown off his wedding band as a warning all those months before. It was a challenge, and he is losing.

How many men Yuri has seduced before him, before this bar? He imagines him with all those potential others and the flames of jealous rage burn hot.

He spins him around, shoves him against the brick. Yuri grunts in pain.

“Is Leroy married too? Is that your thing?” Otabek demands to know as he grabs the waistband of Yuri's skinny jeans with both hands, shoving them down to just above his knees. “You get a kick out ruining relationships, is that it?”

“You're the married one, not me.” Yuri snaps breathlessly, looking over his shoulder. “ _I'm_ not ruining anything.”

“Tell that to your boyfriend.”

“He's _not_ my boyfriend.”

Good.

Otabek threads his hand back into his hair, pulls his head back so his ear is against his mouth and his throat is bared.

“You wanted me to see you with him didn't you? This is what you wanted.”

Yuri suddenly grips his cock through his boxers by reaching behind him and Otabek groans loudly, the shot of pleasure tightening the coil in his belly. 

“Maybe it was.” 

Yuri strokes him once, twice, as well as he can with the awkward angle.

“Maybe you should punish me for it.” He adds breathily, pressing his hot cheek against the side of Otabek's head. He stops jerking him through the material and reaches inside to grip him properly. Feeling his cool, soft hand on his length is almost enough to make him see stars.

If this is losing, he doesn't want to win.

Feeling frenzied, Otabek pulls him from the wall, pushes him down to his hands and knees on the ground even though it's dirty and wet from the recent rain. When he pushes his fingers into Yuri's mouth, the blonde accepts them readily, moaning and sucking earnestly.

Knowing that someone could walk out here at any moment doesn't deter him. The danger of it, the tantalising thought of being caught laying claim to Yuri like this, spurs him on even more.

His finger slips inside him without much resistance, his rim still loose from JJ fucking him not even 30 minutes ago. He's wet inside too and it's more than just the spit and whatever lube was used before.

“You let him cum inside you.” 

It should disgust him, but no. Instead all there is is an insatiable desire to replace it with his own, something inherently primal. The same feeling that had led to all the dark marks littering Yuri's throat and collarbone. 

“Now you're out here with me.” He presses closes, leaning his body over Yuri's back so that his mouth is against his ear again. “You really are a filthy slut aren't you?” 

Any words Yuri was going to reply with die in his throat, replaced with a moan as Otabek pushes in another finger and curls them both inside him.

“ _Aren't you?_ ” Otabek repeats with emphasis, thrusting them in and out mercilessly. Yuri gasps loudly as he lands a hard smack across one of his ass cheeks with his free hand.

“Yes!” He pants, wriggling his hips and trying to push back on him. “Just fuck me already, _please!_ ” 

Hearing him beg like that makes Otabek's cock twitch. He removes his fingers and spits heavily into his palm, slicking himself up as best he can. And when he finally pushes into him... it feels like any fantasy he could have ever come up with would have paled miserably in comparison. His head falls forward as if in prayer to the sound of Yuri crying out and he has to clench his teeth together. He's so hot and tight and... _fuck_. It's perfect, so much more than he imagined, so intoxicating. His first few thrusts are shallow to allow Yuri to adjust and the urge to bury himself in him is almost unbearable. He needs more-

“Faster.” Yuri groans.

 _Yes_. He grips Yuri's hips tight enough to leave bruises and pulls back on them sharply in time with his quickened pace so that each thrust goes deep. The frenzied slap-slap-slap of skin-on-skin borders on obscene and adds an extra layer of depravity to the already heady mix of gasps and moans coming from the two of them.

“Oh fuck!” Yuri cries out when he hits his prostate. “Just like that- ah! Don't stop!”

Otabek stays at that angle, repeatedly driving into that sweet spot that has Yuri yowling like a cat in heat. He shoves Yuri's jacket up his back so he can press his mouth to the milky skin underneath in several feverish kisses and reaches round his waist to start stroking his neglected cock. Yuri lets out a near sob of relief, hands scrabbling on the concrete as if trying to grip on to something.

“Ah! Ah! Beka!...I'm-...!”

And then he's coming with a scream, spilling hot over Otabek's hand and the ground beneath them, his body trembling as the orgasm rips through him. Otabek fucks him through it hard and fast, wishing he had him on his back so he could have seen the sinful ecstasy possessing his features. 

Yuri clenches around him and it pushes him to the edge. He's so close but no, not yet, he needs-

He pulls out quickly, Yuri gasping at the sudden emptiness before he's shoved round on to his back and his jeans are yanked off one leg.

He needs to see him, all of him.

Otabek grabs Yuri's thighs, hooks them over his hips and thrusts back inside roughly. The blonde cries out, back arching and fingernails clawing at Otabek's shoulder blades through his leather jacket. The sight of him like this is exactly what he wanted; writhing beneath him, completely wrecked and looking devastatingly beautiful for it. 

Sex with Elena is nothing like this. It's always in their king sized bed, usually after they've both showered, filled with gentle movements and tender touches. 

This isn't gentle or tender. This is fucking in the wet and the dirt like wild animals, and Otabek feels like he'll never be able to get enough. It's like something dark and feral was locked away inside of him and has now been unleashed. 

He pounds into Yuri furiously, feels that same pressure building again with every sharp snap of his hips.

“Fuck, Yura,” He grunts. He wants to devour every single inch of him.

He bends forward and captures Yuri's mouth in a searing kiss without losing rhythm. Yuri responds feverishly, tangling their tongues together and threading both hands tightly into Otabek's hair.

He's so close. There, right there. 

He breaks the kiss, draws back just enough to see-

“ _Look at me._ ”

And there they are, those eyes snapping open and connecting with his, so bright and clear and intense. That green he goes to sleep thinking about every night. 

“Fuck!”

He comes hard, spilling inside of him and slamming his palm on the wet concrete next to Yuri's head, groaning deep and loud through gritted teeth. 

_Fuck, fuck, fuck_. 

~.~

His phone is buzzing again, the ringtone loud and obnoxious in the thick silence between them. He quietly extracts it and stares down at the contact info. Elena again.

When he glances up, Yuri is watching him.

“You should probably get that.” He says as he fixes his dishevelled clothing. He looks utterly ravished; lips pink and swollen, his hair a damp wild mess of knots and dirt, and the marks on his neck and collarbone vivid even in the poor lighting. Otabek almost wishes he could take a picture and wonders what JJ will think when he sees him.

It's still ringing when Yuri brushes past him towards the door and the barely there touch sets a tingle across his skin. He stares down at the phone as the torrent of thoughts rush around his head. One in particular sticks out and it bites at him enough that he calls after the blonde.

“I don't want you fucking anyone else.” 

Yuri stops in his tracks and looks back at him incredulously. His lip curls into a sneer and he nods his head at Otabek's ringing phone.

“You first, asshole.”

Then he's gone.

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://tinypic.com?ref=s0ya84)  
>   
>  Art by [kingjulienisnotalemur](http://kingjulianisnotalemur.tumblr.com/)! 
> 
> I listened to "Lurk" by The Neighbourhood a lot as I wrote this, hence the title. Awesomely dark and sexy song, do recommend.
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> ~.~  
> Find me on [Tumblr](https://yuralove.tumblr.com/)!  
> ~.~


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